


Covet

by HopelessHeartless



Series: Fixations [1]
Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Coffee Shops, Disturbing Themes, Explicit Language, Multi, Obsession, Psychological Drama, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:01:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27011665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HopelessHeartless/pseuds/HopelessHeartless
Summary: He has coffee four times a week, and it is always terrible. He spoons sugar into his cup until it is practically viscous, but it is always too bitter for his tastes. It doesn't matter; he's only there to see her again.A short, strange, hopefully compelling take on the classic coffee shop AU.Part 1 of a series tentatively titled "Fixations."
Relationships: Choi Saeran/Main Character
Series: Fixations [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1971319
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	Covet

He has coffee four times a week, and it is always terrible. He spoons sugar into his cup until it is practically viscous, but it is always too bitter for his tastes. It doesn't matter; he's only there to see her again.

Saeran knows when she works and by what means she will arrive. He knows where to sit and what to busy himself with for his best viewing pleasure. He stays, quite happily, for hours at a time.

It takes only a few weeks for her to anticipate him, to greet him by name. It sounds so good--her voice is so _perfect--_ but his attempts to record it are fruitless. She recommends a caramel latte, and it is his favorite drink. She recommends a raspberry mocha, and it is his favorite drink. She recommends this and that and something else, and they are all his favorites by virtue of her blessing. Her word is alchemy, turning ordinary things to gold in his hands.

Saeran begins to carry a folder filled with pamphlets and exercises from his therapist. Where he is meant to write of his pain, he scrawls her name over and over. He draws hearts and clouds and little stars, and he knows it's only matter of time. He'll make his confession very soon, before the year is out.

A stupid, white-haired fuck is spending too much time in his coffee shop. Preening, reading scripts in public like women actually fall for that kind of cheap ploy. Not _her_ , Saeran knows. She is too smart, too good for such dirtbag tactics. Saeran watches him all the same.

It's late afternoon when the white-haired man--an actor, Saeran has learned--appears at the counter to chat with her. He's so smooth, so _sleazy,_ and it's so very clear that he lacks sufficient intellect. But he's charming her; Saeran can see it on her lips, and he won't have her swallowed by this feral, rut-hungry wolf. The cur is so stupid, he believes it's an accident when Saeran's coffee floods over his laptop and papers.

Saeran looks good as a woman. Even without the contour of makeup, he is strikingly sexy. He makes himself smell honey sweet to catch the flies.

The white wolf is predictable, and Saeran can feel red eyes scanning his padded ass and hips as he sways into the studio. It is no surprise when the stupid fuck offers to help the curvaceous blonde run lines for an audition. It is even less surprising when he offers to drive her home.

His body is pretty, Saeran finds with his hands, but his mouth tastes like ash and shit. It's _disgusting,_ and the moment they reach the bed Saeran is thrilled to drive his knee hard into the actor's groin. The stupid dog doubles over, and a silver pump kicks him in the ribs.

Saeran's hair was like this, once. White, with a pinkish touch. He brushes it with his fingers a while, but when the blood dries it becomes flaky and brown. _Ugly._

As expected, his princess barely notices the actor's absence. Why would she? He hadn't put in the effort. He hadn't nurtured a bond with her. He hadn't spent time with her. She didn't want him, but the selfish prick didn't care. He'd have taken her if he'd had the chance. He'd have _mauled_ her.

It is a blessing when the coffee shop hires a chatty new employee. The rookie asks her things Saeran has always wondered: "where are you from?" "Do you have any siblings?" "What do you like to do?" They exchange Instagram usernames, and Saeran writes both of them down.

Yoosung's Instagram is cute, filled with pictures of animals and food. It is no match for hers, which allows Saeran to save and kiss and marvel over dozens of beautiful selfies. He crops out distractions like friends and family. They'll be such a good couple when he finally opens his heart. His therapist says he's getting there.

She and Yoosung work together often, for which Saeran is grateful. He learns so much about her when they chat, and he fills out his fantasies with little details. When Yoosung dyes his hair blonde, he learns that she once dyed her hair red, much like his own. But he can't enjoy it. He can't look away from Yoosung. He looks so familiar like this.

Saeran checks Instagram every day. He checks it repeatedly. Yoosung posts a photo of himself in a college restroom mirror, and Saeran agonizes over it. It is Yoosung, but there's someone else there. Something he's forgotten. 

Yoosung begins to call Saeran by name, too. He recommends an iced hazelnut mocha, and it is Saeran's favorite drink. He recommends a matcha tea, and it is Saeran's favorite drink. Saeran sits where he can see Yoosung best. Where he is meant to write of his pain, he writes " _Who are you? Who are you?_ "

Over time, she becomes strange around Yoosung, giggling and sometimes touching him. Yoosung does not notice, but Saeran sees everything perfectly. Her Instagram fills with flowers and sunsets, and he _knows_.

He's not ready, but his hand has been forced. Dressed in his finest apparel, he approaches the counter and offers her a single azalea. When she flushes, he requests her company for an evening. He knows she will accept, yet is delighted when she does. He's won. He's _won._

By the end of the week, she is burying her fingers in Saeran's hair. Her touch is electric, hands skimming the goose-pimpled skin of his arms as their mouths meet. _No one will take what I want,_ he promises himself, and he bites down hard into the muscle of her tongue.

She is rightly bewildered; her mouth is full of blood and it pours down her naked front. She can't speak clearly, but Saeran already knows what she's saying. He's heard it before, from liars and thieves and _wolves._

He loved her, _oh_ , how he loved her! She was his princess, his perfect angel. He'd protected her from certain harm at great risk to himself. But things had changed. They'd grown apart. Yoosung was cute, cheerful, friendly, and she'd grown far too close to him. There was no alternative course.

When her body is still, Saeran traces the outline of her face with his fingers. She is so pretty, but so dense. With bloody fingers, he dreamily paints a set of hair pins on his arm.

Yoosung is _his_ , and no selfish _cunt_ is going to fuck up his coffee shop romance.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you'll stay tuned for future additions to the "Fixations" series. Each work in the series will be a single, relatively short piece somehow related to the theme of obsession. They'll all be Mystic Messenger fics, but the characters and topics will vary.


End file.
